


My Beloved Child

by XX_CALIBRE



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Uncle-Nephew Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23144887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XX_CALIBRE/pseuds/XX_CALIBRE
Summary: Nero, no matter what happens... you will always be my child.
Relationships: Dante & Nero (Devil May Cry), Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Nero & Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 132





	1. Prologue

“Hey, Verge. Where’s Nero?”

“Must it automatically be my job to know his whereabouts?”

Silence.

And then there was a soft blush.

“He took one of your jobs in the South, and left a few minutes before I got the chance to wake up.”

Dante smirked. Last time, all he remembered was Vergil finding it tough to show he cared for the kid. Having to ask Dante over and over, how does he prove that he had changed after V and Urizen came to being. How does he let Nero know that he wasn’t _going to leave a second time_ ?—and yes, those were his very words. Bitch knew how to make Dante tear up; very dangerous. But now, he had trouble showing he didn’t care _all_ the _damn_ time. It happened again that day when Dante was very well awake and he noticed Vergil's voice echoing from his desk to his bedroom, calling Nero (by himself! Not bothering the wake Dante up! The fucker! He loved Nero, too!) and asking the kid where he went. There was a hint of worry when Vergil questioned him, but not apparent enough for the boy to notice; evident in his cheerful answer. It was cute. Endearing to know that Nero was the one who broke through the many walls (made of bloody Titanium and possibly a few lords of Hell) that Vergil built over the last few years. Much faster than Dante ever predicted—then again, it was Nero. The boy could do anything at that point in time and _win_. Vergil became _that_ weak for his spawn but he still was ferocious. He nearly killed Dante for the 45th time that week.

All because he believed that Dante took the last piece of pizza when it was actually Nero.

The sneaky bastard.

The last take-out box was no longer present on the table. It seemed like Vergil cleaned it up… judging by how the elder looked somewhat pissed that he had to clean up after his younger twin. That younger twin took that as a win (score 64857 to 64858!) and sat upon the office table ( _his_ office table, mind you) where Vergil took it upon himself to sit at, with his legs tucked under the surface and crossed like a well-mannered Sparda. Fuck _that._ He was ill-mannered; _do not believe what you see_ , he would tell that to anyone who even tried to flirt with his brother. Nobody should have Vergil as a husband. Nobody, well except for Nero’s mother—she was very special. But, Dante had to admit, Vergil was still so damned rude whenever Nero wasn’t around to tell him that, _no, don’t say that or you’ll end up on someone's kill list_. It was hysterical to watch Vergil be lost and pissed simultaneously; he just wanted to voice out his shitty thoughts. The remembrance brought a slight purr of laughter bubbling in his chest, peeping over Vergil’s head to see a book that his brother had in his clutch. Dante recognised it instantly: Nero had bought it for Vergil when Dante told him that their birthday was coming up. This was about two weeks ago.

Usually Vergil would take less than a day to read something, but he was taking his time with his gift.

The bitch cared. _Aww_.

“If you are going to continue staring, I suggest you to not do so,” Vergil mumbled, but his eyes were loud when he lifted his sight from the page to Dante’s own cerulean eyes. “This book does not need a second reader.”

“Insufferable.”

“A very big word, dear brother—do you have any more?”

“Oh, shut the fu—”

“Mind the language, you idiots got a child in the buildin’!”

Yeah, that voice was not expected to be in DMC any time soon. When both brothers tore their attention and landed it upon the only entrance to the building, Nico was there. Free-spirited as always but instead of the usual cigarette, she had a bent toothpick clasped between her teeth. Maybe because of the child’s presence, she thought twice about smoking. After noticing Nico, the twins did think that the said child had been at her feet but no, they guessed it had to be the hefty bundle in her arms. And to Dante's fear, the lump was _unmoving._ Vergil was the first to voice his curiosity but not for the same reason as Dante; no, the younger twin was _worried_ about the kid’s life. Vergil, on the other hand, just wanted to know—

“Where’s my son?”

If Dante wasn’t worried about the child’s status, his heart would have started bursting out the fattest ‘uwu’ when Vergil called the kid his son. Was that the proper use for that sound? Dante would have to ask the kid once he got back. That is if the kid decides to show up.

Nico rubbed her nape with an expression that was borderline sheepish and playful—whatever she planning or had in mind, neither twin could tell. “Well, you see here! Nero got into a l’il… problem. It ain't my fault, just sayin’! I just couldn’t bloody hear him under all ‘em screamin’ and shriekin’—imagine, a group of bloodsuckin’ monkeys—”

A cough.

“Sorry—what I meant to say was, Nero fought a magician and this is now your problem.”

‘This’ meant the apparent blob of fabric she placed onto the floor before bolting out of DMC like her life depended on it. Of course, Vergil was the first to investigate. Dante was still hesitant to get hurt for the billionth time—who knew the child was actually a tiny demon spawn waiting for a snack? Dante was not _food_.

But, upon inspection, the older twin had caught onto the familiar scent of his son on that fabric—first of all, it was _his_ jacket. Nero’s jacket that was gifted to him by Vergil for his most recent birthday. Alas it was covered in dirt and grim, and his own blood. The stench of dried iron made Vergil seethe in utter rage, he nearly _tore_ the gift apart when he pulled the fabric away. Enraged by the mere smell, Vergil was about to throw a very big tantrum—

Cerulean eyes met his.

“He’o.”

“Hello.”

Dante was _puzzled_. Of course the bitch of a brother had to block his view, but he did not miss how gentle Vergil had been when he said hello. There was indeed a child, but then there was a sag in his brother’s shoulders. So, obviously, Dante was curious. He jumped off the table and made his way towards the older twin, calling out to him. “Verge, what’s—oh, _god_. Please tell me that’s not the kid.”

With a hand outstretched, Vergil reached for the little boy completely bare but protected by the jacket. The boy giggled, cooed, and reached for Vergil’s fingers. A hand too small grasped at a single digit, grasping onto the finger like the boy’s life depended on it. And there was a gurgle of a cry, a laugh. The boy’s face so radiant with happiness and innocence. “Papa!” He called out, as if he recognised his Father’s scent.

If the world understood the trouble he brought upon countless lives, this had to be the test. _The_ test. He was not… a _good_ person. Much less a good Father. He had to improve but he hadn’t thought it would come so soon. Nero, a child in his clutch. He looked like his Mother right then and there. So pure, so innocent, and so very _happy._ In the beginning, Nero—Vergil remembered—would have never wanted his Father like that; he would have exerted so much rage and hostility that it would have _broken_ Vergil. But now, there he was. He was allowing Vergil to come close.

“Verge?”

Said half-demon scooped the boy from the floor, letting the child press his cheek against his chest—just where his heart was. The slow, steady beating almost made the boy fall asleep, but the boy refused to succumb to rest. Stubborn, just like his Father. The child bundled a handful of his vest, squishing his cheek further into Vergil’s chest. There was a hint of a smile, something warm on Vergil’s face before he lifted his eyes off the boy and rested upon his twin.

“It’s Nero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I continue? 


	2. One

“What do you mean you lost my child?!”

Oh, _boy_. That did _not_ sound good.

It was Kyrie’s idea to send the kid to school, knowing he would have to start from scratch whilst his Father and Uncle were on the hunt for whoever did what they did to Nero. Even though Vergil was keen on education, this school was not doing a great job on keeping their eye on his active son. It had been the—

“It’s the third time this week I am being called in to _find my son_.” Vergil was seething heavily as he stood his ground against the head teacher. To make things easier for the man-turned-child!Nero, his Father—dear ol’ Vergil, took the identity of a rich businessman whose job required a lot of travelling. Seeing from his rich aesthetic and stuck up nose, it was _easy_. No believed him to be such a caring Father until that day. Dante had to stop Vergil from committing murder _twice_ as the staffstarting looking for the boy. “As much I would love to help you, I would not. I was not the one who lost a boy with _silver_ hair.”

Vergil’s tone dipped in _hatred_.

But he did not mean what he said, he started to look for the boy. The staff took the North of the building, and Dante took the West wing. Vergil decided to take the South; the further away he was from the staff, the better he felt. He had Yamato sheathed under his long coat, hand atop the hilt’s butt as he readied himself. Some… ominous smell started to dance the more he traversed through the corridor. From the silence, Vergil could tell that that part of the school was abandoned. He had Yamato removed from his side, fully clasped in his hand.

“Nero?” The Father called out, cerulean eyes slowly melting into crimson. The smell began to build. Climbing up his legs, clawing at his arms. His demonic blood allowed him to see in the blasted dark. His demonic blood allowed him to smell his son at the end of the corridor. Vergil was not one to run but that time he did. If Nero was an annoying teenager, he would’ve called Vergil extra for using his wings to let himself barrel through the hall. “Nero—can you hear me?” 

Rather than opening the door when he got no response, Vergil used his powerful leg to obliterate the damned thing—

Hell spawned right in his face.

Vergil barely had time to defend himself; had he really weakened in speed? Intolerable. With a fully sheathed Yamato, he swung up to get the thing off of him but crude yellow eyes stared at his own reddened pair. It had only been barely a month and baby!Nero decided to give his old man a scare. “Nero,” Vergil repeated with a sigh, pushing himself off the floor and into a sit as he gathered his little boy in his arms. Nero had shifted into his DT. Nero was shivering in Vergil’s hold. Nero was _crying_ in Vergil’s hold. “Talk to me,” Vergil whispered, hands caressing the wings that folded around the Father’s arms.

“Bu’ied,” his little boy said, “g’ay hai’.”

“ _Meum solatium_.” Vergil held his boy against his chest, and waited. Children… were sensitive. Even more so when one would talk about Nero. He had inherited that from his Mother; how beautiful she was, how magnificent she had been. But she was emotional—something Vergil learnt to hide. Vergil’s arms were set free, and the boy had fallen asleep. As if the Yamato, pressed against Nero’s spine, had lulled him to a slumber. The Father stood, thinking. So, his boy was bullied for his hair. That was not the first time he had heard that.

When he got back, he almost condemned the staff for not doing their job properly and called in the parents of whom birthed the rotten child. The same one who bullied Nero for sport—he found out when both Dante and he started unleashing their killer intent onto everyone in the room… if not school. Things were settled quickly—it was because they still had the killer intent burying the entire area, and it only stopped when Morrison came over to pick them up. They flew over rather. They did not have time to be humans when Nero’s disappearance was involved.

Morrison did not stay in DMC for long, just letting the pair know of a few jobs before escaping. Both Vergil and Dante took refuge on the blasted old couch that none of them bothered to recondition. Nero was still asleep—Dante tried to free the boy from the kid who did not want to leave Vergil’s arms. So, both Uncle and Father did not fight the child.

“So, did he say what happened?” Dante asked.

“Aside from what the other spawn had told us, no,” Vergil let his voice be no louder than a whisper, relaxing against the couch’s spine as a means to lengthen his chest—giving the boy more room as his ‘bed’. “He shifted when I found him.”

“Demonic presence?”

Vergil shrugged his shoulders. “It smelt _horrendous_. Must have been the reason why Nero’s demon decided to appear.”

“It’s no wonder the school shrinks every time I visit the goddamn place,” Dante chuckled, pouring himself a full glass of whiskey. “I’m surprised you weren’t attacked. Maybe the darkness housed tiny little demon babies—”

“You sound idiotic, Dante,” Vergil cut through his brother’s sentence like he had been the Yamato.

Dante snorted, chugging that glass. “I do _not_. You know I’m not shittin’. If they had been anything older than the kid, why didn’t they attack you? More so him? He’s your heir, the child you’re trying to protect. I would think by now the entirety of _Hell_ knows about Nero’s mishap and him being in this state.” Dante was not lying. They did recently take a trip down below and they were almost raped by demon hoards. All of them trying to get a piece of them—especially Nero. Vergil accepted the fact that it was his fault for bringing Nero along; but if he hadn’t, who was to take care of the boy? Vergil did not trust Kyrie—for now. She had not done enough to convince Vergil that the blood of Sparda could trust her. “Heck, did the kid look bloody to you?”

“He smelt of liver and heart.”

“And you say that as if it doesn’t surprise you.”

“He is not the only one who fancies such a meal.”

“Well, yes… but he’s not 44-years-old, Vergil.”

“He has a demon, Dante.”

“He’s a child for fuck’s sake!”

Well, that burst a bubble. Boy, Nero was loud and so was his sobs. Vergil and Dante immediately blew up into a panic, Vergil grabbing his son by the armpits and pulled him away from his chest. His face paled immediately when he saw Nero’s face turned cherry red from the wailing. “Shh—! Shh, it’s okay!” Vergil jumped to a stand, pulling Nero back towards his chest. Oh, how lovely it would have been to have his wife. It took quite some time for the boy to settle down, sniffling loudly against Vergil’s shirt. “Great job, you dunce,” Vergil hissed.

“It’s not my fault!”

“Clearly, it is!”

“No!”

The tiniest of hands made a red mark upon a cheek—and Dante was in the middle of dying.

Vergil had been slapped by his miniature son.

The silence was deafening. “Nero—”

“Pa, no!” He was going to slap his Father again.

Instead of the brothers having their much needed fight, Nero decided to take matters into his hands and fight his Father. Vergil pulled his child away but Nero remembered he had wings. The celestial addition to his body opted for a cat fight. Vergil used his tail as a weapon. All while Dante was splitting a lung. Tiny demon noises rattled in between the twin sons of Sparda, Vergil had to drop his son—who elegantly floated to the ground before bolted towards Vergil’s legs in a waddle-like run. It seemed like Nero remembered his Father owed him for cutting his arm off. Evident when the boy suddenly screamed: “gi’ a’m!” Tiny Nero was not able to pronounce his ‘R’s or his ‘V’s. Or any rough consonants for that matter. But he sounded so _angry_ , Dante’s lungs refused to fill themselves with Oxygen as Vergil attempted to keep his legs away from a tiny angry Nero.

Vergil could be called anything from a murderer, to an idiot. Now what could be added onto the list is _terrified of a tiny demon child_. Terrified because he was much bigger in stature so one wrong move could send Nero into the afterlife. That he did not want. But the boy had spirit… even if it died five minutes in. It died with another round of whinging. The smile on Vergil’s face was not concealed from any eye when he dropped to Nero’s height, reaching over to give the boy’s hair a ruffle. “Oh, my sweet child,” Vergil sighed, almost chuckling if he hadn’t been careful of Dante’s presence. “Looks like you hadn’t forgotten anything.”

It took a moment for Dante to come back. He wiped a tear away, and rubbed his chest with a knuckle before coming back. “It looks like the l’il champ knows he can’t tolerate our fighting and he wants an arm for his arm.”

“His arm grew back.”

“That means yours would, too. A lot faster, in fact.”

The older twin rolled his eyes, sitting opposite his son who started playing with the tip of Vergil’s tail which hadn’t disappeared just yet. Seemed like his Demon wanted to play, too. He heard the rumble in his head, his Demon reaching out from the depths of black as it decided to watch the boy. The very same boy looked from the tip of the tail to Vergil’s crimson eyes. The boy pointed to the red gleam and squeaked, “Pa ‘mon!” There was a giggle when Nero closed the distance between them to grab Vergil’s tail and hug it with his entire body.

Mood swings.

_I like this child_.

_This child is my child_.

_His liver must be very delicious._

_There is a fully grown demon in the room. Eat Dante’s._

_He is too fat for my liking._

It seemed like Nero heard the conversation, he burst into a fit of giggles. He bit the tip of tail, just like an ordinary and curious child would but did not whine when Vergil—or his Demon—took that tail away from the boy. As much as Vergil appreciated the sudden change in mood, he was learning more everyday. The boy was not growing at the speed in which the sons would’ve liked him to. But the boy seemed to remember… how much he could recall, none of them knew. He was able to shift into his DT but it was if the Demon had no voice of its own. When Nero was in his DT, they heard no remnant of a Demonic presence in his voice.

It was just…

Nero.

“We cannot delay any longer,” Vergil said after rubbing away a trail of saliva that clung onto Nero’s cheek. “I have never seen anything like this… but I will take the risk that if the longer he is in this state, the more he becomes a child rather than my boy.”

They had to find the Magician before they could run into another Demonic hoard aiming to kill Vergil’s only heir. But they had to awaken Nero’s Demon whether the boy liked it or not because if the Demon had been removed from his child, the boy would’ve been dead the moment he had been changed.

Dante fixed his position on the couch, resting his elbows upon his knees and clasped his hands together. “Even if he becomes a mere kid with no recollection… he is still Nero, Verge. He is still my nephew.”

A pause.

“Wouldn’t he still be your son?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I've continued :') 
> 
> _Meum Solatium = my comfort_


End file.
